


In a Kingdom Far, Far Away

by Angeleyes1uk1



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2019-10-16 04:10:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17542421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angeleyes1uk1/pseuds/Angeleyes1uk1
Summary: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy reimagined in medieval times. No Force. Angst. Heavy on the Reylo.





	1. Rey I

In a Kingdom Far, Far Away

REY I

This was everything she had ever dreamed of, so why was she lying here awake, unnerved? She had thick stone walls around her, the softest, sweetest smelling straw she’d ever lain on, and a full belly. It wasn't even for one night only--they'd offered her work, a home. In a castle! It was more than a serf girl could hope for. 

What kind of fool could be homesick for the barren wastelands of Jakku? It was a poor province, scarred by the war that had torn the country apart years before her birth. Her home was barely more than a shack on the outskirts of Niima village. She somehow scratched out just enough of a living on the strip of land she had rented from the foul local landowner, Unkar Plutt, which had been worked by her parents before the plague struck leaving her an orphan. 

Rey had spent hours in Niima’s market place, listening to the stories told by the old men and women of the village who seemed to take personal pride in the fact that the final battle had taken place on Jakku soil...or alternatively had never forgiven either faction for the burned villages and fields, the blood spilled. War decimated the common folk, they said, dying when they found themselves in the path of those that history would remember.

The occasional minstrel had passed through with their songs of glory, brave heroes and dastardly villains. From what Rey understood, the beautiful young Queen Amidala had been forced to marry wizened old Lord Palpatine to secure her rule and fortify her armies against separatist factions. They said that the Queen was good and would do anything for her people, and that under her rule there had been peace and prosperity. The marriage changed that. 

The Jedi Order of holy knights had been torn apart when the greatest, most famous knight, Sir Anakin Skywalker, had fallen in love with the Queen and she had become his secret lover. Sir Anakin had gotten her with child. They said he had eventually been driven mad with jealousy at not being with the woman he loved openly, finally snapping and killing most of his order save for those who went into hiding. It was said that he killed his royal love in a fit of rage, leaving the country in the grips of King Palpatine and his dark knight, Lord Vader.

There had been a rebellion led by Princess Leia, who was as caring and dutiful as her mother, and as brave and daring as her Jedi father before he fell. She had been rescued from the Royal dungeons by the famous highwaymen, Han Solo and Chewbacca, and Sir Luke Skywalker, her twin brother. Sir Luke had been hidden, protected and raised as a simple farmer by old Jedi Knight, Sir Obiwan Kenobi, Sir Anakin’s closest friend and mentor, when the Order fell to keep the young Prince safe from the King and his father. 

The story went that during the siege of Endor, Sir Luke had been captured and held hostage. He had fought the King’s right hand man and vicious enforcer, Lord Vader, and won. When he had unmasked the black knight he had been stunned to discover that Lord Vader was none other than his father, Sir Anakin, warped, twisted and tortured by the King until he had become little more than a bloodthirsty beast. He had spared his father’s life and redeemed Lord Vader by together tearing down the King, bringing an end to his tyranny, although Lord Vader had succumbed to his injuries moments after.

The King dead, there had been a scramble for the crown amongst all and any with a claim to the throne, however tenuous, including Queen Amidala’s bastard twins, who in the end prevailed.

They said when the war was finally won, that Sir Luke had renounced his rights in favour of his sister, saying that she would be the better ruler of the two. He then swore an oath to restore the Jedi Order and work to restore the wrongs of his father. 

It was stories like that that had inspired Rey to practice with her staff. That and the unspeakable risks to a young girl living on her own. She imagined herself to be someone,here to defeat the dark and defend the light. She never sought to be Queen or a long lost princess in the stories, more of a female Luke or a particularly worthy hedge knight.

It was a compelling story but one in a sphere so far above the world in which Rey lived it felt unreal. Maybe that was why she couldn't settle in this fairytale castle, set by a lake in the fresh green lands of Takodana? She didn't belong here. This wasn't her simple, lonely life of toil and hardship. Adventures didn't happen to people like her. People like her died with not even a footnote.

Rey thought of the path she had taken.

It had been a crazy few days, all starting with finding a young boy lost alone in the rolling hills in the middle of nowhere, not far from Niima. In his strange tunic, orange and white, he said he was a Page to Sir Poe Dameron, Queen Leia’s young, brave favourite knight. He had been given a message for the Queen but Sir Poe had been captured in the North by the black clad scourge, Sir Kylo Ren, who had sworn allegiance to Lord Snoke, a would be usurper and leader of the First Order. The scroll contained a map to Sir Luke Skywalker, who had disappeared when his attempts to restore the Jedi Order had failed. If it fell into the wrong hands…

Rey had agreed to show him the way to Niima village, but there she had gotten caught up in more excitement there after meeting Finn, who had helped Sir Poe escape only for the knight to be pierced by an arrow and fall. She had felt an affinity for Finn, who seemed equally as overwhelmed by it all. Although they both agreed to get the Page, Beebee Ate, to the Queen, Finn wanted to get as far away from any potential song or tale as possible. Over an intense few days they had become fast friends.

Then as soon as they reached Takodana Finn had admitted that he was a foot soldier for Lady Phasma, of the First Order. She had tried to convince him that where he came from didn't matter, that they should stay together, but Finn had said that war was coming and he wanted no part of it. He had been given the name of a ship that would transport him to the continent in exchange for work.

Rey thought about her brief friendship, the situation she was caught up in. And however brief the friendship she mourned the loss of a rare human connection. Her spirits were low. 

They didn't make songs about nobodies. Nobodies had to fight everyday just to survive, and woke up the next day to do it all again.They didn't steal Unkar Plutt’s best horse, Falcon, and leave the only home she’d ever known to get caught up with queens and lords and knights. They especially didn't get held up by highwaymen on the road, only to find out that the thieves that stopped them were none other than rebellion heroes Han Solo and Chewbacca, who agreed to help take Beebee Ate to a safe place.

It was all so much bigger than her. Rey expected to wake from a dream any moment. But how could she go back home now? Unkar Plutt would string her up!

Eventually Rey gave up on her attempt to sleep and decided to explore, hoping that familiarising herself with Maz’s Castle might help quiet her mind, or perhaps make it feel more like home. And so that was how she came to find herself in the bowels of the keep, staring at the curious sword in the stone. It flickered silver in the torchlight, a bright blue stone set in the pommel. So beautiful, Rey had thought, and had lifted it out of its scabbard of rock to examine it further.

Rey turned to find elderly Lady Maz herself behind her, staring in shock.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't be down here,”

The old noblewoman came closer. “That sword belonged to Luke Skywalker and his father before him, and now it calls to you?”

Surprisingly Lady Maz was not angry, seemingly startled by the fact Rey had removed the sword at all, as if it hadn't slipped from the stone like water through fingers. 

Famous swords were another step too far. Anakin’s famous sword was called Lightsaber, any child knew that. Rey handed the sword to someone more worthy. Lady Maz smiled and balanced it on her palms reverently but held it out for Rey to take once more, as if it should be hers. “Luke placed it here in the stone before he fled, saying that it could only be claimed by one who would succeed where he failed. Many have tried, but only you, Rey of Jakku, have been able to pull it from the stone.”

“I have to get back to Jakku.” 

“Han told me.” Smiling Lady Maz stepped closer, taking Rey’s hand. “Dear child, I see your eyes--you already know the truth, you cannot go back. Your destiny does not lie behind you, it is ahead. I am no Jedi, but I know a good heart. It's always been there, the light. It will guide you.” Her face became serious. “The sword--take it!”

“I'm never touching that thing again. I don't want any part of this.” Rey backed away and bolted for the door. Her feet carried her through the stone corridors, down the steps, to the gate, under the portcullis. She blindly sprinted into the forest as she noticed the first lights of dawn. A young boy’s voice called out from the battlements but she stopped for no one.

For how long she ran she didn't know, but the sun was up and winked at her through the leafy canopy above. Footsteps and panting behind her alerted her to the fact she wasn't alone. 

Beebee Ate had followed her.

“You have to go back.” Rey looked down at the round faced boy who was looking at her like a kicked puppy. 

A few moments of silence were interrupted by numerous feet in the distance. Curiosity got the better of them both and they investigated, only to find soldiers in red, black and white livery marching towards the castle Rey had just fled. 

“They've come for the map!” Beebee Ate choked.

An arrow hit the tree trunk Rey was trying to hide behind. “Run!”


	2. Kylo I

“Keep out of range of their archers. I want trebuchets in position. Stones and barrels of pitch. We don't have time for an extended siege. Break their walls and burn them out.” Kylo commanded from horseback, his charger skittish but under control. Pleased to see his men lining up through his black and silver visor, he swelled with pride at his own sigil, flaming red sword on black, being set into the ground. He wondered what Han Solo would think of it and pulled a wry smile. He was in there, Kylo knew. “And watch the lake. They have a smuggler’s gate that opens onto it.”

Kylo knew this castle well, had visited many times when he was young. That knowledge would prove useful now he sought to burn the thieves and traitors out. Lady Maz had always been a Queen’s woman and little more than a lucky smuggler herself, but she had gone too far this time. The company she kept had caught up with her. 

“I want Lady Maz, the traitor and the Page taken alive…” Sir Kylo paused a moment trying to will himself to make an order he couldn't quite say. “And any other prisoners you think may be of value.” He took a deep intake of breath, glad that his expression of disappointment in himself was hidden.

One of his captains rode up. “Sir, the Page was spotted heading West, with a girl.”

The captain had his full attention. “What girl?”

His man’s stuttered response had demonstrated that he knew nothing.

“You, and you, with me.” He pointed at two mounted soldiers and spurred his horse forward into the forest. A minute or two in he passed a foot soldier stood by an outcropping of rock pointing the correct direction. He heard a shout and saw two archers loosing arrows in the distance. 

“Sir Kylo.” The archers paused as he approached. Kylo noticed that one had a bloodied mark above one eye. “She’s armed with little more than stones, but the terrain…”

Kylo held his hand up to silence the man and dismounted. The girl had chosen a good spot, but Kylo remembered. “Wait here, if they come this way, apprehend them.”

He drew his broadsword and circled around the outcropping until he found what he was looking for, a narrow fissure that snaked up the side eventually reaching the top. His visor made it difficult to check his footing but he took slow deliberate steps. 

There was no doubting when she spied him as the first rock bounced off the side of his helm with a clang that rang in his ears, and then another almost where his helmet met his neck. She was a good shot.

As he drew closer he saw nimble feet clamber further up the outcropping until she reached the grassy peak. He followed until she paused and turned, having reached what he knew was a dead end with a sheer drop

He slowly approached. The Page was clearly not here and the girl now panted hard, looking scared yet resigned to her fate. He looked her up and down. She was dressed in thin, dusty rags. He knew the locals here preferred thicker clothing, cloaks and layers, and wondered where she hailed from. Jakku, he assumed, given that was where Phasma’s men had pursued the traitor to. 

He considered what he had been told. The Page and the foot soldier had managed to escape Jakku with help from a local Serf. He had been told that the Serf had stolen the lord’s best horse. They had apparently met with the infamous Han Solo and been spotted heading to Takodana. Kylo had understood exactly where they were headed, mobilised his army and moved to take the castle.

He wanted that map, not only because Lord Snoke sought to keep the Queen and Sir Luke from reforming their alliance, but for his own reasons. He wanted to face Luke himself. 

He turned his mind away from that thought and circled the girl. She had no weapon save for a pouch that still bulged with pebbles, the type that had rained down on him and had bloodied his archers. So poorly armed she had clearly succeeded in her aim to buy the Page time to flee. She was clever, resourceful. If it wasn't so infuriating he would smile at it.

“The girl I've heard so much about.” 

He could hear her sharp little breaths and see her shaking from this close. He held his blade to her neck, not quite close enough to touch but enough for her to get the message.

“The Page, where is he?”

The girl said nothing, simply trembled. He brought down his sword and finished his circle, considering her reaction. Her eyes were closed, she looked braced for pain. He came in closer, so close he could see the bead of sweat run down her forehead. 

Her actions caused Kylo to think. The Page had trusted her with his life, on more than one occasion. The girl’s eyes flickered open, wide, expecting death, having sacrificed herself so the boy and the map were out of his reach. 

“The map, you've seen it.”

“Sir!” A voice called from the base of the outcropping, one of the mounted soldiers. “The Queen’s army.”

Sir Kylo itched with frustration. They would be outnumbered, outmatched. “Ride to the front, my order is to pull back.” Now was not the time to expend his army, not yet. “We have what we need.”

His man immediately rode off and Kylo turned to the girl. He saw the moment she understood, and she subsequently fainted. He was there to catch her. Without a rain of stones he was able to take the gentler slope to the bottom, carrying her unconscious across both arms until he was able to reach his horse. With assistance he was able to sit her side saddle in front of him, supporting her with one arm and taking his reins with the other. 

If his men thought anything about it, they said nothing.


	3. Leia I

Leia I

Once they reached the lake, Leia gladly gave Sir Poe permission to lead his knights forth and pursue the stragglers as they fled the would be siege. The castle was damaged and a few fires burned, but nothing that couldn’t be repaired over time. And the First Order had left in such a hurry that they had had to leave their trebuchets which would now become property of the Crown.

By the time Leia and her Royal Guard arrived the entire area was secured. She could not feel happy, however, at watching the remaining black banners being taken down. They were in stark contrast to the Leia’s own blue on white, the sigil she and her brother had chosen for themselves during the rebellion which later became the royal standard. The fiery sword on black seemed to the polar opposite—she knew who it belonged to and why he had chosen each element of the same.

Sir Poe had escaped against all odds, as usual, and despite his wounds had rode non stop to D’Qar where Leia was luckily currently encamped. He did not have the map but had entrusted his Page with the same, allowing himself to be captured to buy time. Poe had every faith in his Page, and Leia had to admit, the Page was learning from her best man.

Just ahead of the gates Leia spied Sir Threepio in his distinctive gold armour speaking to two men on foot. Sir Threepio had been with her family for so long, advising on royal protocol. Despite his undoubted knowledge of monarchy and nobility, Threepio seemed to lack any kind of instinct for human interaction.

Leia looked around him and met familiar eyes. For the remaining few yards neither broke their gaze.

“My Queen, look who it is! You will never believe it! Han Solo!—“

Leia silenced him with a withering glance, Threepio responding with a respectfully lowered head before leaving the group.

Han’s face was older, more lined, his hair more grey than not. The corner of his mouth twitched although his eyes remained serious. “You’ve changed your hair.”

Leia, for a second felt like a young princess and instinctively raised her hand to her braid before dismounting. “Same jerkin.”

“No, new jerkin.”

From behind him, Chewbacca, Han’s longtime partner in crime stepped forward and with extreme familiarity pulled her into a hug. Threepio would be having a fit but this was the only way to greet such an old friend. Chewie was a hairy Northerner from as North as North went and not many could understand his broad accent, but he was brave, fierce, loyal in the extreme and with such a good heart. 

He said something Leia understood as along the lines of it was good to see her and tell that stupid bastard to get his act together. 

After their greeting Chewie disappeared into the castle, leaving Leia and Han alone. There was so much to say, so much that had been unsaid for years. So many emotions to address. 

“I saw him. Leia, I saw our son.”

The Queen barely had time to process this before Sir Poe returned with a distressed young man riding beside him. She heard him repeating “he took her” as they approached. 

Poe inclined his head. “Your Majesty, this is Finn. He needs to talk to you.” Both men dismounted.

Finn, the soldier who helped Sir Poe escape. She had heard so much about him. The expression on Finn’s face said that he only now realised who she was. Leia smiled as he bowed. “And I need to talk to him. That was incredibly brave, what you did: renouncing the First Order, saving this man’s life.”

“Thank you, your majesty, but a friend of mine has been taken prisoner.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Finn is familiar with the army that led the attack on Hosnian district.” Poe cut straight to the chase. The defeat had decimated the Queen’s richest and strongest ally by surprise. There had been no warning, and rather than taking the resources for itself, Lord Armitage Hux had burned it all. The loss of innocent life was too terrible to consider. “He was stationed at Starkiller Castle.”

“We’re desperate for anything you can tell us.” Leia implored.

“That will be where my friend is taken. I need to get there fast.”

"And I will do everything I can to help but first, you need to tell us all you know."

Within half an hour, the Queen had taken over Maz's Castle and she stood with her best men around a table covered in maps. Finn detailed so much information that would assist them in the campaign to put down Snoke and his ambitions. The was one slight hitch.

"I'll get us through," Han stated confidently, gesturing to himself, Chewie and their new valuable asset, Finn."

"How?" Leia demanded. She couldn't help but twinge as Han give a look that took her back decades and declared that she wouldn't like it. The sensation was superficially buried but underneath her emotions were a raging torrent.

War plans made, all but Han left her to her thoughts.

"Leia."

"Don't do that." She walked past him and poured a cup of wine. 

"Do what?" 

"Anything!" She turned to face him.

"Listen to me, will you? I know every time you... Every time you look at me you're reminded of him." Leia saw pain, resignation, cross his features. That was not the Han from the Rebellion years. That was Han who felt that he had failed as a Consort, as a father...the Han who had left her, told her to divorce him and remarry someone worthy, someone who wanted the pressure of running a kingdom and the backstabbing and scramble for favour of Court.

"You think I want to forget him? I want him back!" Leia had been too deep in her grief to be inclined to stop her husband. Court had not missed his rough charm and had continued on happily, however regarding their son, her heir, the Crown Prince...

"There's nothing more we could have done. There's too much Vader in him." 

They both took a silent moment to silently acknowledge Leia's lineage, what she, and Han, and Luke, and all the others had experienced during the Rebellion. Luke might have grown to see their father as Sir Anakin, but to Leia he would always be Lord Vader, who deprived her of her biological mother, and who had stood with her as Duke Tarkin had burned the home of her mother and father in practice, Princess Breha, her aunt, and Lord Bail Organa. They had raised her as their own...

The old wound had been compounded by more recent loss. Her own child was lost to her and she felt it not as a Queen but as a mother. 

"That's why I wanted him to train with Luke." She had sensed the anger, had thought that her brother could teach the future King balance. She did not want him to be spoken of in the same tone as his grand sire and be forever associated with death, destruction and tyranny. She had had good intentions, had ignored Ben's pleas... He had seemed so young. "I just never should have sent him away. That's when I lost him. That's when I lost you both."

"We both had to deal with it in our own way. I went back to the only thing I was ever any good at." 

"We both did." 

Han sold himself short. He was a scoundrel, true but so much more than that, although he had always tried to deny it. He hated being idolised as a war hero and fawned over as one of the two people who had the Queen's ear most. She missed him. She missed Luke.

"We lost our son. Forever." Han's face had a grim set to it.

"No." Leia had not given up hope. "It was Snoke. He seduced our son to his side. But we can still save him. Me. You."

"If Luke couldn't reach him, how could I?" It was true, Luke had won back Vader before the end. But Ben wasn't Vader, wasn't Anakin. 

Leia looked up at her husband with wide eyes. "Luke is a Jedi knight. You're his father. There is still good in him, I know it." 

They were interrupted by one of her guards. "Your majesty, the scouts' report on the enemy base is coming."


	4. Rey II

Rey II

The light was fading as the army made camp. Rey found herself chained to a wagon and guarded with two other prisoners: a young man bloodied, with two swollen eyes, and an older vagabond with wild grey streaked hair. She eyed them both with apprehension and assessed the risk they may pose to her during the night. 

To her surprise, once camp was made, she was unchained from the wagon and led away. Her relief was momentary as she noted that she was being led to a small tent slightly to the side of a larger black and red tent. The larger tent obviously belonged to someone important, a lord, a commander, a knight...maybe the black knight who captured her?

Panic struck and she began to struggle against her bonds, to no avail. The soldier led her inside where what looked to be a metal table leaning at an angle was waiting. There were restraints for her arms and legs that Rey fought against as hard as she could, to the point where the soldier attempting to secure her called for assistance. 

And then she was left alone, fastened to the table. She struggled against the restraints experimentally, to quickly realise that it was useless and made her wrists and ankles sore. It was then with relief that she recognised that her metal bonds kept her legs parallel to one another, not apart. She sighed in relief for her virtue, until she took in the table to her right with a number of metal implements no doubt designed to inflict maximum pain. An empty metal stand stood empty, she assumed for the torturer’s torch. 

Rey waited for a cold sweat to pass, her stomach churning in fear, and waited for the inevitable. There were guards outside of the tent, she could hear the creak of their armour, but no one else came and no one ventured inside the tent even though night fell and it seemed that most of the camp had retired to their beds.

Rey tried to make herself as comfortable as she could, as she waited, and waited, and waited some more. Her mind began to convince itself that the anticipation was all part of the interrogation technique.

Would it be the black knight who came for her, to draw out of her what she knew? He had stalked up to her, her rocks simply bouncing off his armour. He was tall, intimidating and the stuff that nightmares were made of. 

But neither he nor anyone else came. Eventually Rey succumbed to exhaustion and slept, a heavy dreamless sleep, despite her awkward position. 

She regained consciousness with a start, the jolt of metal against her wrists and ankles startling her further before she remembered yesterday’s misfortunes. 

There, kneeling before her, was the biggest misfortune. He remained still, his helm unmoving and featureless, and it unnerved her.

Rey felt as though she needed to break the silence. “Where am I?”

The pause before he responded heightened Rey’s anxiety. “You’re my guest.” His voice was even but distorted.

“Where are the others?”

Another pause. “You mean the murderers, traitors and thieves you call friends? You’ll be relieved to hear that I have no idea.”

Rey took a moment to consider her captor and his answers. He had said nothing to alarm but she felt threatened all the same. This was a dangerous man, of that she was sure—one false step and she did not want to consider what would happen. Rey remembered the sword at her neck in the forest. Her panic and fear grew. She didn’t want to be caught up in any of this. She felt anger—at herself, at him, at everyone. 

He seemed to observe her, observing him. “You still want to kill me?”

“That happens when you’re being hunted by a creature in a mask.” Her defiant retort did not hide the slight wobble as the words passed the lump in her throat. 

The black knight kept his visor trained on her. Was that the wrong thing to say? Should she be meek and cooperative, or in providing the map would she outlive her usefulness? She waited for his response with baited breath.

Without speaking he lifted his hands towards his helmet, unfastened it with a metallic clank and removed it. He got to his feet and stared at her.

Rey stared back, her brow wrinkling in confusion. 

Of everything she was expecting to see under the mask, it was not the face before her. Dark hair, black as night, but not in sweaty tangles as expected. He looked well groomed. His eyes were also dark, intense, and striking against the pallor of his skin. This man did not have to toil out in the sun day after day. No doubt he spent his time hidden under that mask avoiding daylight. His clothes were as dark as his hair. Under a prominent nose, she had expected a hard mouth twisted into a sneer. Instead she found the only colour on him: large, soft, red lips. 

She understood now. He wore the mask to hide. He did not look like a monster. He looked spoiled, vulnerable, even attractive, maybe...

Rey caught herself. This was her captor. He was here to extract information from her. And then she was disposable, a nobody. 

Rey had never been a fool over any boy. She didn’t have the time or energy. And even if she considered that in some time in the future she might, looks were irrelevant, meant nothing. Strong hands and a hardy constitution were everything.

The black knight placed his helm on a table and approached. She was reminded of his towering height as looked down at her. Rey braced herself for what was about to come.

In. Out. In. Out. She forced herself to breathe.

“Tell me about the Page.” His voice was reasonable. 

“He’s Page to Sir Poe Dameron. He has seven siblings of which he is the youngest and his mother’s name is Maude—“

“He was carrying a section of a map.” He gave her facetiousness short shrift. “We have the rest recovered from the archives of the Empire, but we need the last piece. And somehow you convinced the Page to show it you.”

He looked her full in the face. “You. A Serf.”

Ah, that was it. A reminder of her place. That she had gotten involved in something so far removed from her own life. He was someone. She was not. She was entirely at his mercy. Fear and anger threatened to spill out of her watery eyes. 

His gaze then roamed up and down her body. “You know I can take whatever I want.” His voice was almost a whisper but she heard the threat. He stepped closer and brought his hand up to the side of her face. The leather of his gloves felt strange against the soft flesh of her cheeks. Her stomach flipped in a strange way. Rey pulled as far away as her bonds would allow.

His hand held her head in place as intense brown eyes sought her hazel. Try as she might to look elsewhere, he captured them.

It was a while before he spoke again, as if he was interrogating her with his eyes alone. “You’re so lonely, so afraid to leave.”

Her breath hitched as he hit the mark. She noticed his eyes look her up and down once more. 

Something about the proximity, his intensity, his interest in her, flared in her veins. Up close she could make out a constellation of moles across his cheeks. And those lips as he spoke...

Without thinking she pulled at her restraints in an attempt to escape her own reaction to him. No. Absolutely no.

She noticed him swallow hard.

“You imagine an ocean. I see it. I see the island.” 

His gaze lingered on her face before dropping once more and returning. His expression changed to displeasure. 

“Han Solo. You feel like he’s the father you never had. He would have disappointed you.”

Anger won over fear. “Get out of my head.”  
How dare he presume to pretend he knew anything about her, as if she was the type of peasant girl that was wheeled in for him every day of the week.

He stepped away from her, removing his hand, and walked over toward the table and tools. “I know you’ve seen the map. It’s in there. And now you’ll give it to me.”

They locked eyes again. This time she did not try and look away but met him with all the challenge and bravado she could muster. His expression softened, with a hint of confusion, and something else. “Don’t be afraid. I feel it too.” 

“I’m not giving you anything.”

He smirked. “We’ll see.”

He stepped closer, close enough to see the way his lips quivered slightly. 

His face, it was so expressive. It hid nothing. He was...nervous? 

The fearsome black knight was wary of her? A girl, completely defenceless, held at his whim. Why?

Something lit within Rey. This was as new to him as it was to her. He did not know what to do. With her. With whatever was making the air in the room thick with tension.

Rey felt power shift in her favour as she parted her lips slightly and retutned his gaze. He wanted her and did not know how to proceed. Rey did not know what her own face was saying but Rey saw his confidence shatter completely. He was open, vulnerable.

Maybe, just maybe, this was her chance. 

“You. You’re afraid.”

He took one, two steps back.

Yes. Yes, he was. But not just of her. She could see it now. The whole persona, the black and silver helm, was more than just metal armour, it was a disguise. He was just a boy—and a soft one at that—inside of a black suit of steel.

Why? Why did he want to pretend to be something he was not? He was clearly born into privilege. Why build himself up to be the new black knight, most people’s idea of fearsome, strong, intimidating?

Because the boy who was afraid of everything wanted more than anything to be the thing that everyone else feared. To make himself feel stronger. He wanted to be just like—

“That you’ll never be as strong as Lord Vader.”

The boy recoiled in horror, showing his true face, no disguise, before storming out of the tent, taking his helm with him.

Any victory Rey felt faded as she realised that she was still a prisoner. As night turned into day she had plenty of time to reflect how she could have used her time differently.

Once the army packed up, she was chained to the wagon once more. Only briefly did she see the black knight as he mounted his charger and rode away, at the head of his army. 

It was a long and tiring days march, and by the time the sun was setting and they set up camp around a castle, Rey’s feet were blistered and sore and her mouth dry. When offered a ladle of water and some stale bread she consumed them greedily. 

A soldier unfastened Rey and her two companions and led them across the drawbridge and under the portcullis.

If she was going to escape it was now. Once led through the courtyard and down a staircase, she decided to give it all or nothing. Rey rushed the guard, causing him to slip. She didn’t stop to think as to what would happen next but her fellow prisoners joined the squabble, beating the guard. After what felt like an eternity the guard grew still and after much searching they found his keys. 

Rey unfastened their bonds. The vagabond grabbed the guard’s torch and rushed off immediately but the bloodied man paused. They both saw the guard’s sword and made a move at the same time. The bloodied man won, paused, but then headed up the staircase the way they had come. The light faded as they both left. 

After a brief curse, Rey decided on the method of her own escape. Feeling her way, she removed the guard’s clothing, fitting it over her own clothes as best as she was able given the difference in build. Likely it wouldn’t hold up to close scrutiny but it was her best chance of freedom. 

In the dark, slowly and steadily, she crawled up the stairway.


	5. Kylo II

Kylo II 

“The Serf resisted you?!” 

Kylo looked up at Lord Snoke, one of the few that were able to look him in the eyes, given his lineage, but still kneeling with deference having sworn to support Lord Snoke’s claim over his own. The Supreme Leader of the First Order was wise and would make an excellent king. And Lord Ren would be at his right hand, as Vader to Palpatine, Snoke’s heir apparent.

“She’s intelligent, resourceful—uneducated but stronger than she knows.” And there was something intriguing about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Was she really a serf or one of his mother’s spies, specifically hand picked to slip beyond his defences?

“And the Page?” From Lord Snoke’s tone Kylo could tell that he already knew. His own spies were everywhere. Kylo believed that Snoke knew what Kylo had had for breakfast before he’d even sat down to his meal.

“Ren believed he was no longer valuable to us.” Kylo’s face reacted with distaste as the ginger irritant, Lord Hux, joined the audience before Lord Snoke and smoothly fell to his knees. If Kylo was to be Snoke’s right hand then Hux was his left. An ambitious left hand at that. “That the girl was all we needed. The Page has most likely been returned to the hands of the enemy. They may have the map already.”

Kylo’s hate for Hux increased further. Snoke kept them in constant competition with each other, to encourage both to reach higher at all times, and Kylo had little to say in retort. 

“Then the enemy must be destroyed before they can reach Skywalker.” 

Hux’s smug expression glowed. “The Queen’s own army is at Takodana and separated from the remainder of her loyalist forces are in the capital.” Kylo could practically smell the eager lord’s bloodlust.

“Good, then we will crush them once and for all. Prepare the main army, Lord Hux. It is time to make a strategic move.”

Hux bows and marches from Snoke’s chamber.

Kylo’s expressive face reacts. Now? He knew this was coming but is he ready? Hux is a butcher—he takes no prisoners. He knows many amongst the enemy who he had hoped in the face of inevitable defeat would accept them without bloodshed.

“Lord Snoke, I can get the map from the girl. I just need your guidance.”

Snoke considered Kylo for a moment. “If what you say about this girl is true, bring her to me.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Bowing low, Kylo strode out of the room, ignoring the niggling whisper behind his ear that tried to convince him that the girl was his to deal with, and that he should be the one to find out where his uncle cowered. 

The Supreme Leader would get the information from her. He knew first hand that failure to give Snoke what he wanted was swiftly followed by a harsh lesson in pain. The girl would be practical. She seemed like a survivor. She would sing all she knew before Snoke took things too far. He would break her defiant streak.

And then after...

Kylo slammed down his helm over his head as he tried to bury the thoughts of the girl which had swam around his mind since their interaction in the tent. Snoke would not give her to him. He had taken avow of chastity at Snoke’s encouragement, until a suitable political match could be found to secure their rule once victorious. A Crown Prince was a valuable marriage commodity. 

The girl was a Serf. A nobody. She was not meant to carry his bastards. No matter how her spirit intrigued him, nor how pretty her eyes and how alluring her lips. No matter how the panicked rise and fall of her chest had drawn his eyes to her small but perky breasts with the slightest hint of nipple through the thin fabric...

Kylo tried to swallow down the dry lump in his throat and left the main keep and crossed the snowy courtyard towards the entrance to the dungeons. 

He follows the dank stairs downwards and within the dungeon itself he sees the worried look on the guard’s face as he assists a bloodied and battered foot soldier, one of Kylo’s own. The foot soldier he recognised as one he instructed earlier to secure the prisoners, although earlier he had been wearing armour and not sat in his undergarments.

With a roar Kylo draws his broadsword and the two men leave at speed.


End file.
